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Is It Poetry

Veteran Poet - 3,014 Points (1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

and death washes only bones


And death washes only bones;
The mouth of death speaks oft of every tounge
Never his patience once lost is found in all your nature;
Death washes a bone and the astrologer hands two back,
So the moon when lined up, shines down on Venus asleep.
Time smiles on the heart beating and long of face therein,
death puts it back on the middle shelf prearanged.

And death washes only bones;
Deep valleys are filled with man's rich oil,
And covered over memories by death too often dredged.
Lined up end to end exposed again to harvest the tears of wait;
And death washes only bones and man who drinks so bold,
There being no truth and lies sown shut death eyes all bottoms.


d.t.

Submitted: Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Edited: Thursday, September 10, 2009

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  • Rookie - 150 Points Patti Masterman (9/8/2009 10:48:00 AM)

    Wow, this reminds me of Dylan Thomas, my idol..written by another idol, who still lives and wrests creativity from bones with his bare hands..(smile) (Report) Reply

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